Dreaming of Sound
by macaday me a nut
Summary: AU: Hogwarts is closing. But is it the Hogwarts you know? The students are leaving. But are they the students you know? Their names are the same... Welcome to the life and trials of Harry Potter, resident of Hogwarts, Musical school for Orphans.
1. Prologue

**Title**: Dreaming of Sound

**Rating**: T (may go up)

**Author**: Macaday me a nut

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing of this story apart from the plot and the recreation of this universe.

**Summary**: AU Hogwarts is closing. But is it the Hogwarts you know? The students are leaving, but are they the students you know? Their names are the same, but their pasts are different. Welcome to the life and trials of Harry Potter, orphan and musician, friend and leader. Presently living at Hogwarts, Musical school for orphans, but not for much longer.

**Warning: **There will be some **slash** in later chapters. Do not worry, it won't be graphic, or go on for too long. It shouldn't play that large a part anyway. I will warn you in the A/N at the top of the chapter though. I'm sorry if you don't like it. But that is your bad, not mine.

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Harry's world was ending. No, it was being torn to pieces, slowly, before his eyes. His heart had just imploded; the pressure of his chest to great. 'What are we going to do?' he thought to himself, looking upon the devastated and shocked faces of his peers as they listened to the news. The news that he himself had tried to deny.

"There is nothing we can do. Hogwarts, Musical School for Orphans is closing. Now that our sponsor has, sadly, passed on we don't have the funding to be able to keep you here. You have a few days before we have to start selling the school equipment. You will be told what you can keep and what must be sold."

Dumbledore was dead. That was the worst of it. Old man Dumbledore had been a multimillionaire with a soft spot for orphans. He had built schools across the country, all for orphans and the deprived. He used to visit once every month, to bring the students presents and check that everything was alright. Harry used to love these visits. Dumbledore had brought him his own electric guitar (with amps), microphone set and keyboard. All across separate visits of course. But he had, and Harry cherished them. Now that Dumbledore was gone, Harry thought them even more special. Nearly all of the more talented students at Hogwarts had received their own instrument. All of Harry's closest friends had received at least one present from Dumbledore….when he had been alive.

"I'm sorry." Said the Headmaster, Gary McQueen. McQueen was nearing his 60's and suffering for it. He was a short balding man, with a terrible temper and desperate lack of musical skill. Hardly any of the students liked him, and those that did nobody else liked anyway.

'Sure you are old man' Harry thought bitterly. McQueen had never liked Harry, and that was putting it nicely. Even though Harry had brilliant grades and never tried to get into trouble, trouble always seemed to find him. He had seen the blunt end of a ruler far too many times.

The entire hall was silent as McQueen left the stage placed at the front. After a minute of quiet the hall suddenly exploded with the sound of urgent mutterings. One of Harry's friends, Ron Weasley, lent across the table and prodded him on the shoulder. Ron was from a family of 9 before 'The Accident'. Both his parents and 3 older brothers had been killed when their car had swerved over the edge of a cliff. Now he only had a younger sister, and two twin brothers. They didn't like talking about it, and nobody asked. His brothers, Fred and George work at the nearest bar, selling the drinks. All of his family had red-orangey hair, and the personality traits that came along with it. Freckles marred nearly every inch of his pale skin. Harry attempted to drag his jaw off of the floor and listen in.

"I heard that Dumbledore had left all of his fortune to his nephew, Snape. Guess he thought that he would keep paying for the schools. But he obviously didn't. Annoying little snot-ball of a prat that he is." Ron murmured, his ears going red in anger.

Harry had to agree with him. Severus Snape was an annoying, egotistical, self centered, horrid little snit. Not that he was little. He was actually quite tall, but he was little in mind, or so it was of the opinion. Being 30, he was a fully grown man, but that didn't stop him from being a total prat. The political power that came along with being Dumbledore's nephew had corrupted him. His mind was as greasy as his long black locks. Harry had only met him once, but after seeing those black eyes, like endless tunnels to hell, his opinion was already set in stone. He did not like the man, not at all.

"Bad move on Dumbledore's part." Ginny noted, the only female in the group and Ron's younger, and only, sister. Ginny was much like her brothers in temperament, but was more controlled when it came to expressing it. Her hair was a deeper red, Harry likened it to the colour of tomato soup after you swirl the cream through it. With a mixture of oranges and reds her hair set fire in the sunlight streaming through the clouded window. Her skin was the same pale white as her brothers, with a gentle sprinkling of freckles across her nose. Looking like a porcelain doll, her personality came as quite a shock. With the ability to prank you until you were near crying (with laughter or humiliation) her looks were the epitome of deceiving.

Looking around the hall one more time, Harry let his head fall into his hands. It was suddenly so heavy. His feelings numbed by the grief, he was unable to think and gave up trying to listen to the conversation going on around him. Folding his arms and resting his head on them he lent against the wooden table.

"Harry, are you alright?" questioned Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan. Dean was tall, dark skinned with a smile that could charm the shirt of most girls. His love of art and drawing also helped him get the ladies, while Seamus was a cocky, Irish man with a sense of humor the size of his ego. And that was pretty damn big. The two were always together, two parts of one whole.

"You are looking a little paler then usual." Commented Draco Malfoy. The tall, slim, aristocratic looking boy had white-blond hair and his unblemished skin was paler then most giving him an angelic look. With broad shoulders and a slim waist he was the fantasy of most girls at Hogwarts. Too bad for them. He hadn't dated anyone since ha had been at Hogwarts, although many liked to say that he had been with them. Rumours were always traveling around. His blond eyebrows were nearly always raised in a sarcastic gesture that took years to perfect, his thin, pale lips smiling broadly when with friends but reverted to a scowl when in an unknown situation and around unknown people, or when worried. He was scowling now.

"Like, you can talk." Harry muttered into the gap between his face and elbow. He had been having an excellent time studying the grains in the wood of the table. Attempting to reboot his mind he sluggishly raised his head to look at his surrounding friends.

"I'll be fine, you guys. Just a little tired." This statement was accompanied by a lazy bob of the head. Resting his head back down he prepared himself to once again ignore his friends and the thoughts inside his head for studying the table top.

"Okay, that's it mister. You are going to bed even if I have to drag you there myself." Ginny proclaimed, standing up and moving to take Harry's arm. "Help me, will you boys." Draco grabbed his other arm. With the two working together they were able to drag him out of the hall, leaving the excited chatter behind. The others followed behind.

Questions, unanswered, ran through their minds as they made the journey to their dorms. One after the other the question crawled into their heads; what were they going to do?

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Thank you for reading. Please Review! It would be greatly appreciated.

Macaday me a nut (and your one too!)


	2. A Rest Disturbed

**Title: **Dreaming of Sound

**Rating: ** T (may go higher)

**Disclaimer**: I am J.K...Bow to me! Ok...maybe not. Someone save me from the scary people's! I own nothing but the plot and recreation of this universe.

**Warning: **There will be **Slash** in later chapters. That is Boy and Boy relations! Just so you know. I'm sorry if you don't like this. I am also sorry for any spelling mistakes. All my fault it would seem.

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Harry was an orphan. His parents having been dead for the past fifteen years, Harry had given up hoping, that maybe, maybe; had stopped asking the question 'Was there?...'; had stopped asking 'Why'. He knew that there was no reason behind it, it just happened. His life just happened. Fate seemed to have deemed it necessary to find every way it could to abuse him. He had gotten over them. Being at Hogwarts had been the only good thing in a life of pain. Now that was leaving him, just like everything else.

He had found his way to Hogwarts thanks to Dumbledore. He had known Harry's parents and had taken custody of him after the crash. To Harry he was a substitute Grandfather, as near as he would ever get. He was the closest thing to family for a lot of people. Many of the students at Hogwarts, and his other schools as well, looked up to him, believed him to be unstoppable, always there. Harry knew nothing last's forever.

For the first few years of his life at Hogwarts he was cared for by Nurse Pomfrey, a lovely lady in her late forties who had worked with the younger generations that had entered Hogwarts, for years. She had taken a particular liking to Harry, with his large green eyes and messy black hair. Harry was often told, when ever he happened to meet up with Nurse Pomfrey, that as a child his mannerisms had been polite and shy and that she had no idea how he had grown up to be the way he was. Harry always said it had been her gentle mothering that had done the trick, accompanied by a charming smile.

Many people had been in looking to adopt, but Harry was always passed over. Sure he was cooed at and 'Aww, isn't he adorable', but never taken home. He was too distinct, too different. He didn't look enough like them. Messy black hair was not a common trait amongst most people. And neither were gorgeous, big green eyes. Also he was sure, the lightning bolt shaped scar that marred his forehead didn't help any. So he stayed put, never leaving. He watched as all of his friends and room mates left to better lives, never taking him with them, even after promising they would during late night conversations under the blankets. He was one of the longest staying residence at Hogwarts, not including the professors, although, Harry was sure that if he tried hard enough he could out stay (and probable outlive) most of them.

A few years ago, Harry had a friend. His name was Neville. He and Harry had been friends for just over a year, when suddenly, Neville was gone. Like a mosquito bite Harry didn't register that it had happened until it started to itch. Or in this case, hurt. He swept through it, being taken by the tide and floating, remained floating. Harry blamed himself. He hadn't cried. He didn't feel that he deserved the relief.

Only one of his friends was around to know about it, but he didn't know of Harry's involvement; would never know.

Harry's sleep was restless at best. Nightmares haunted him. Accusing faces and harsh words beat at him inside his head. Never letting up, even when he pleaded for forgiveness. He did not know that he cried out into the night. That he was actually heard.

When his dreams gave rest and he sprung to life, clutching hands and a tired face greeted him. They smiled down at him, and he didn't know why. Shouldn't they hate him for what he did to another human being? Couldn't they see that it was his fault that someone was dead? He could feel the hot tears streaming down his face. Strong arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him close, maneuvering his face to nestle against the bridge between their neck and shoulder. Harry grabbed onto the persons shirt with both hands, clung to it, planning to never let go. The arms draped across his back slide down to enfold his waist. Harry didn't want to cry, never wanted to cry, but he couldn't stop the moisture leaking from his eyes. Harry didn't want to let go; couldn't let go. His grief and self-hatred went on unabated by his fierce tears. Harsh sobs wracked his body and the gentle hug he was enfolded in grew tighter.

The ache inside his chest strengthened, becoming almost unbearable. To keep breathing was an effort in itself. Chest constricting Harry had to force the air out, and back in, between the spasms of his muscles as he fought against himself. Harry's head hurt from lack of oxygen and the tenseness of his muscles. Squeezing tightly to the material between is fingers he brought himself closer to that small amount of comfort that he was receiving, wanting to not need it but knowing he did. Eyes shut tight he pressed it all down, again and again, until these foreign emotions broke and hide themselves, to far away to reach with conscious thought. He didn't think he could have kept pushing it away much more, he was so tired.

As his sobs and sudden lack of control subsided Harry put things to order inside his head. Okay, he had a sudden out burst. Okay, he was now being hugged by someone; he assumed it was a friend as the hug didn't feel awkward or the body unfamiliar. Yes, he had cried. That was going to come back to haunt him, he was sure. He felt ashamed of himself, for letting it go, even though he knew he couldn't have stopped it. It had been a long time coming. He could adapt though, he had learnt how to lie, how to cover weakness at a young age.

The arms surrounding him lessened their hold slightly, leaving enough room for Harry to comfortable remove his head from the persons shoulder. He didn't look up, couldn't meet their eyes. Those eyes so full of shame and hatred, he was sure. A low sigh escaped his chest and echoed faintly in the quiet room. He noticed his hands were trembling. The friendly stranger moved gently to place a soft kiss to the top of his stubborn locks. A loving kiss, faint and subtle, its worth was completely understated. Harry suddenly felt like crying again. He hadn't known such a simple thing as a kiss atop his head to create such a reaction from him, could break his walls away and tear them down like pieces of so much soaked cardboard. It wasn't the kiss that was the trigger; it was the emotion behind it. The love, unyielding, strong and ever present, in every movement of that friendly stranger. Harry had never really felt love, not like this. It was a friend's love, someone who would always be there. Harry felt undeserving.

The stranger's warmth scalded Harry's skin, the cold of the night much more familiar. The moons light shone in through the semi open window, only to be blocked by the light curtain covering it. A slight glow resonated from the piece of material, giving some light to the small room. It fluttered when a breeze passed through, but otherwise remained still. You could just glimpse the sky outside when it moved. The stars were bright that night, the sky an empty darkness only broken by the curve of the moon. He attempted to ignore his present situation for staring at the curtain, attempting to catch a glimpse of the night-time lights.

Harry lay in the persons embrace for many moments. He lost track of the time as he just lay there, didn't have the energy to try and pull away. He couldn't remember resting his head down on their broad shoulder once again, but that was where he found it now. The stranger had started whispering sweet nothings into his ear, softly, making it difficult to understand, even if Harry had been coherent. He didn't bother questioning. He just sat, warm and comfortable in another's embrace. He could feel their breathing, chest pressing against his. Their fingers flexed and relaxed against the base of his back. Arms still tightly wrapped around him, like a straight jacket for his insanity. The stranger gently nuzzled the back of his head with their face. He could feel their nose and cheek rubbing his hair.

He couldn't stop it. A whimper escaped his throat. Not loud enough for anyone else to hear had he been a safe distance away, but the stranger heard. The arms surrounding him tightened gently. Another kiss was placed atop his head. The stranger started to gentle rock the both of them, back and forewords. A gentle rhythm that slowly lulled Harry to sleep. One small question intruded on his quiet moment of peace. He wanted, no needed, to know who it was that he had broken down in front of. Who had touched, and held him even after hearing his cries. Who let him sob into their shoulder during the dead of night. Who loved him enough to care, to stay.

He fell to sleep still questioning.

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Reviews would be great!

Macaday me a nut (and your one too!)


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